


remix

by jayhood



Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Found Family, Gen, Jason Todd kills Joker, No Lazarus Pit, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayhood/pseuds/jayhood
Summary: You’re a thief, and a really good one. One day, in a dark parking lot, you see a really nice car and you decide to steal it. Upon breaking in, you realize two things: this is not your average fancy car, and this is the Batmobile.The third realization: You are Jason Todd
Relationships: Artemis of Bana-Mighdall & Bizarro (DCU) & Jason Todd
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	remix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dnky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnky/gifts).



> This wouldn't be written without [dn-ky](https://tumblr.com/dn-ky%5D), and that's just facts.

It's like in a dream. You hear a familiar voice you can't quite place.  _ Jason _ , it says.

You open your eyes just in time to swerve back to your lane. The truck you barely avoided is blaring its horn so loud you almost don't hear the profanity the driver shoots at you.

Wow. You did not black out in a while, and never on the job. You're doing it for over a year now, and the last time you were even close to that was on that job in Metropolis where you wouldn't be able to get away, with Luthor's security detail on your tail, if not for Superman. You were getting shot at: it's like they did not even care about the car, it was more important to them to prevent the insult of someone stealing from Luthor. Maybe that was it. Not like all his cars weren't insured to hell and back. Not like he couldn't afford a new one even if it wasn't. That maybe was why you did it. Not like you could have found a buyer for that beauty and not turned up dead the next day. It pisses you off, rich people, accumulating wealth just for kicks.

Blue Boy-Scout saved you. Maybe because he was secretly anti-capitalist just like you, or because not all crime was created equal in his eyes. He stopped the pursuers and did not even try to stop you, though you were pretty sure he could. He just glanced at you, when he was flying past, shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he saw. Some punk, barely 18 if that (you weren't too sure yourself, not like you had ever owned a legitimate ID except a medical bracelet with John Doe on it, right above the name and address of a Gotham mental health facility).

You caught his eye, and the next thing you remember was being on Interstate, halfway to Gotham already.

You drove off the next exit, found an empty road, torched the Porsche, walked away and hitched a ride in the next town over. You returned to Gotham and for two weeks, you did not even touch a steering wheel. That's how freaked out you were.

Because it used to be so much worse. You have this thing, with the memory, where you  _ don't have any _ up to two years ago, give or take. Give or take, because when you -  _ began _ , or something, when you _ became aware _ , it was not a continuous thing. It was not a guarantee. You were there, and then you wasn't, and at first you did not even realize it.

It's scary to remember. Because when you started to get something is wrong, that it's not normal... That you never could tell what you did when you were away (even if judging by all the traces, you kinda weren't doing anything, like you were in a coma, but standing up or sitting down, with both your eyes wide open). That was done to you. It freaked you out at least as much as scars on your scalp, and only a little less than the Y-shaped scar on your torso.

Once, you blinked, and you were at the same place as a second (you thought) ago. You weren't alone, though. There was a body on the ground. You were gripping a tire iron in your hand. It was the most awful thing. It was, it turned out, what you were afraid of all along. There was a body on the ground, and you could not see the face, just very dirty green hair. No, it wasn't dirt, it was blood.

"Hey," someone said. "You are pretty handy with this thing."

There was someone else at that alley. Someone who saw the whole thing. And that someone offered you a job.

You tactfully declined. If by tactfully declining you mean throwing the tire iron at him and getting the hell out of there before Black Mask's bodyguards could shoot you dead.

But that was where things got better, kinda.

There weren't any more episodes so... Prolonged as that. In time, they weren't there at all. You discovered you can drive just as well as break into cars, and stealing it all was more profitable than only some parts. You were  _ good _ .

You had a place now and several sets of ID for different names and birthdays, a dog named Dog, a friend you stole from Black Mask, and a friend who helped you steal him. Biz was living with you now, and Artemis sometimes stayed with you when she was back Stateside. Sometimes she looked at you like she knew something. Like she was sorry. It was okay, you wanted to say to her more than once. But you doubted she would appreciate the sentiment. Worse; what if you read it wrong and she knew nothing about you, and her look was just pity?

So you never told her that, and never asked if she knew anything about you, and allowed her to call you Little One, things like that, instead of a name you choose for that day of a week.

So it's not her voice you heard saying your name. And you're sure that it  _ must  _ be yours. You are Jason. You are maybe 18, maybe 19. You can survive on streets and make it off the streets, more importantly. You can pick pockets and hotwire cars. You can break into places, evade Black Mask and his men, and bash a man's head in a pulp if you in a pinch. Those are things you know about yourself. Right now, you also dead-certain that actually stealing a Batmobile should not be so easy.

It's a setup. Maybe, Batman caught wind of your little car stealing act. Maybe, he'd heard about Biz - in which case, fuck him, you will rather die than allow anyone to take him. It such an awful thought, you  _ hope _ he figured out who offed the Joker.

In any case, you don't think you can get away.

You stop the car when you see him coming at you.

You wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Original writing prompt: [here](https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/615938667195858944/youre-a-thief-and-a-really-good-one-one-day-in).  
> dn-ky's version, if anyone wants to give it a spin themselves (pls link in the comments! I love it so much): [here](https://dn-ky.tumblr.com/post/615942233088196608/writing-prompt-s-youre-a-thief-and-a-really).


End file.
